Tomorrow's Dawn
by Andruindel
Summary: LxAmy  A series of one-shots about Amy and L, and various other Death Note characters and their reactions to Amy. Maybe some random pairings, I dunno
1. Chapter 1

Tomorrow s Dawn

By Andruindel

Hey, readers. It s me, Andy! And, guess what, I'm writing again! I decided I wanted to write some more LxAmy, so this is why you re getting a series of one-shots about them. Some of them may be about L before him and Amy, or about some other D-note characters, but, you should all just be glad I m writing again, hehe

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"I'll always love you, L."

Her voice echoed hauntingly inside L's head, keeping his thoughts racing and his eye open. And people wondered why he was an insomniac. If they tried sharing his thoughts, they would all understand. But no one could see what was in his head, or know about the memories that plagued him at all hours of the day, so no one understood. They all whispered about his oddness, and his insomnia, thinking he couldn't hear them. He could hear them alright, and sometimes it hurt knowing how strange people thought he was.

The night wore on, and L lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Amy was in the next room over, but she was most likely asleep. He didn't want to wake her up if she was, so he stayed in bed, alone. After what seemed only a short time, L sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and glancing at the clock. It was four in the morning. Some how, the entire night and slipped away. Soon, the sun would be rising, and he would need to get back to work. He was investigating a murder, but the details were simple. The man was clumsy, lazy; he acted like he wanted to be found. It was a murder far below L's usual standards. But Amy made him promise, on almost a daily basis, that he would stay away from the well publicized cases.

The Kira case was still painfully sharp in both of their memories.

Curling into his familiar, and comfortable position, with his knees drawn up to his chest, L stared at the wall. He began gnawing on his thumbnail, his thoughts whirling. He could still hear her voice; he always heard her voice, but most days he was good at pretending he couldn't. It was only when the sun sank, and the darkness enveloped the world, and he was left in his bedroom with his own thoughts, that he could no longer avoid the memories. That was why he spent most of his nights awake; that was why he buried himself in the work he did. And with Amy insisting that he stay off the big cases, at least for a little while, his sleepless nights were getting worse and worse. She couldn't see it, though. She was still caught up in what some people referred to as the honeymoon stage of their relationship. With the Kira case closed a mere four weeks before, Amy was overjoyed at the time they got to spend together. His since the case had been spent mostly free, except for the few minor cases he had taken on. So he and Amy got the chance to be a real couple for the first time since their relationship began. They got to spend time out of doors, walking and shopping, and otherwise entertaining themselves. L could remember vividly the last time he had spent such an enjoyable time with a female. It was her voice that haunted him, and had haunted him for all those years. Sometimes, when he was with Amy, holding her hand, or resting on the couch with her in his arms, he would let himself go back in time to those happy months. He wouldn't go as far as to pretend that Amy was her. He could never do_ that_ to her. But he would let himself remember, and he would let the grief come back. Sometimes.

A heavy sigh lifted his thin chest, and he let it escape into the night. He hated thinking about her, but he couldn't stop himself. The memory of her, of her voice, her eyes, her silvery laugh, were burned into his mind forever. When he closed his eyes, he saw her. When he tried to sleep, she would whisper things into his ear. Softly. No one else could ever hear them.

I'll always love you, L...

A creak of springs signalled that Amy was moving in the other room. She was probably just turning over, but as L listened, the springs creaked again, and he could hear her tossing and turning through the thin walls. It occurred to him that she may be having a nightmare, so he uncurled, and stepped out of bed, bare feet making no noise on the thick carpet as he paced cat-like toward the door. It took all of five seconds to leave his room, and turn to the right, where Amy's door was. Not at all unnerved by the darkness, he stood with his ear to the door, listening. Amy was still tossing and turning, so he knocked, softly.

"L?" He could barely hear her soft cry over the stillness of the night. As if it would be anyone else...

"Amy-chan," He opened the door slowly, peering into the bedroom and blinking owlishly in the light of her beside-table lamp. She was sitting up in bed, her blankets pulled up to her chin and her eyes wide. Staring beseechingly at him, she let her bottom lip protrude just a touch, and L felt a smile touch his lips. Without another word, he crossed the room in three strides, and climbed into the bed with her, as she was silently asking him to do.

"Trouble sleeping?" He asked as she snuggled up against him, nuzzling his chest.

"Mmm-hmmm..." She murmured, already sounding sleepy. L wrapped his arms around her, getting comfortable, for he knew he would be spending the rest of the night there. Once Amy got comfortable, or warm, there was no moving her until she decided she wanted to be moved.

"Insomnia?" She asked suddenly.

"Yes..." L whispered. It was the most convenient excuse he had ever been offered by the medical world. Of course, he was technically an insomniac. He could go nights without sleeping, simply because his body (or mind) refused to let him. But he could never let anyone know the exact reasons behind his sleeplessness.

"You should look into medication, or something..." Amy muttered into his shirt. She tightened her arms around him, and then pressed a soft kiss to his chest. L said nothing in reply. He only squeezed her in return, and rubbed his cheek against her soft hair. Amy's hair was nothing like hers. Amy's was soft,and thick, and curly, and it tickled his nose when he buried his face in it. Hers had been straight, and thin, and always perfect. Even when they were out in the sunshine, together and happy, her first concern was whether or not a stray hair was out of place. Amy was never like that. When they were together, she had eyes only for him. She was like a puppy; she adored him.

"Amy..." He whispered softly. His tone must have caught her attention, for she roused herself enough to tip her face toward him, uttering a soft gasp of surprise when he pressed his lips to hers. L could count the times they'd kissed on two hands, but each kiss they had shared so far had been special. The softness of her lips against his both amazed and fascinated him, and he thought he would never grow tired of the feeling. When he pulled away, Amy was smiling up at him.

"What was that for?" She asked. Her cheeks were tinged slightly pink, and her eyes were shining.

"Nothing..." L said. He hugged her close, squeezing his eyes shut. "I love you, Amy-chan." He whispered.

"I love you too, L. I ll always love you."

Shifting over to turn off the bedside lamp, L then settled back into his position. Amy's breath settled into a steady rhythm, signalling that she was asleep, but L remained awake, letting the tears he always strove so hard to keep in fall as he held Amy close. Some day, maybe, he would tell Amy about her. But for now, he would just let himself be happy in his beloved's arms.

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I think that turned out a little more depressing than I had originally intended. Apparently, and I know this is absolutely NOT canon, L had a previous love interest, and she's been haunting him for years. I have no idea who this love interest was, but she sounds lame to me. I also have no idea how L managed to find another love interest, since he's so painfully anti-social, and socially awkward, and probably a little bit shy, too. Anyway, thanks for reading, peoplez! I appreciate reviews, and keep an eye out for the next one-shot! I have no idea when I'll get it written, or what it's about, but I'll post it when I find out!


	2. Chapter 2

Marshmallow Kisses

By Andruindel

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In all the time I'd spent with L, I had only seen him eat a few healthy things. There was the time he ate a melon. The time he ate a banana. And the time he ate a bowl of cherries (and tied a cherry stem in a knot with his tongue). Usually, he chose to snack on sweet things. His favorite seemed to be strawberry short cake, but he ate all kinds of other things too. I had seen him eat all kinds of things.

But never marshmallows.

So I sat in one of the comfortable arm chairs, watching with interest as L dug around in the bag of marshmallows, and then popped one absently into his mouth. Reaching over, I grabbed a handful of the marshmallows from him, and began happily munching. For a sugary snack that was just puffed up sugar, they were pretty delicious. As I sat and watched L eating marshmallows, slowly working at the handful I had stolen, I listened to the rain pounding outside. Since it had been storming for several days straight, L and I were stuck indoors, with only our imaginations to entertain us. So far that had lead to cuddle sessions, a few board games, and the occasional kiss here and there. For now, I was content to sit comfortably in my arm chair, with a blanket draped around me and the familiar sound of rain falling outside the window. L seemed content as well.

As we munched our way through the bag of marshmallows, we talked. The topic meandered wherever it pleased, with no strict limitations on what we should, or could talk about. We talked about anything, and everything, and it was wonderful.

"I've always felt it was silly to pick a favorite color..." L said thoughtfully, squishing a marshmallow between his thumb and forefinger as he pondered. "Each color has its own good qualities, and it's own bad qualities. Orange, for instance. I find it highly irritating, but I've noticed that a few rare people can wear it and look very nice in it."

"But if you had to pick a favorite, which one would it be?" I wanted to know.

L thought about it for a long time. That was one of his redeeming qualities: no matter what I asked him, he always treated it like a serious question.

"I would choose red, and blue, and green."

"Why?"

"Because they're the colors that you look the best in."

I smiled, blushing a little bit, as I always did when L found the confidence to compliment me. He was incredibly shy about those things, and I tried to help him along with it however I could.

After a few minutes, L stood up. "I'll be right back," He told me, and as he passed, he bent down and brushed my forehead with his lips. I leaned my head back, smiling up at him as he left, and then I rested my chin in my palm, letting my eyes close.

While L was gone, I quietly ate some more marshmallows, and listened to the sounds of the rain. I was so absorbed in listening to the rain that soon it drowned out everything else. All I could hear was the patter as drops hit the window, and the rushing undertone that was both the wind, and the sound of hundreds of big rain drops hitting the ground, and other objects. I have a habit of getting so absorbed in noises (like the ticking of a clock for example, or the scratch of my pencil as I fill in a large portion of a drawing) that it drowns out everything else. So you can understand why I didn't hear L coming back, and why it surprised me so much when my lips were suddenly captured in a passionate kiss. I snapped my eyes open, reacting with realizing I was doing so, and kissing L (of course it was him) back. I unthinkingly tangled my fingers in his raven locks, pulling him closer, and letting my eyes slip closed again as I enjoyed this spontaneous display of affection. When L pulled away, I grinned up at him. He shook his hair into his face, hiding his burning cheeks, and then crushed into the armchair beside me. I was just getting comfortable beside him, wrapping my arms affectionately around his neck, and grasping his sleeve in one hand, when I realized something.

The marshmallow I had put in my mouth just seconds before L's sudden kiss was gone...

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I realize that it's very short, but let's hope it's the sweet kind of short. I really just wanted to play with this idea a little bit, since I find it so adorable. Why do I find it adorable, you ask? Why, because it's based on a dream I had the other night. Of course, in the dream I wasn't kissing L, and I was the one doing the stealing (hehehe). It was adorable, and I think now I will not be happy in any relationship unless he gives me marshmallow kisses! Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review! I always appreciate hearing feedback from my readers!


	3. Chapter 3

Fanciful Imaginings

By Andruindel

Guys, this is really random and depressing, because I was feeling super depressed.

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L set his teeth in a grimace. He was not going to cry out. He refused to cry out. Even though the pain as the knife blade sliced thinly through his skin was excruciating, he refused to let himself be weak. He knew that if he cried out, or if he stopped, he was a coward. And he was not going to make himself live with that knowledge. He was not a coward. He was the opposite of a coward.

The knife trembled in his grip as he paused between cuts. A drop of blood worked its way down his arm from the incision, mimicking the tears that traced their way across his cheeks. The drop wended slowly down his forearm, ending at the tip of his index finger, and quivering for a moment in empty air before dropping to the ground. L grimaced as he watched the sight, but did not react. The sight of his own blood had lost any ability to make him sick months ago.

Slowly, he wielded the knife again, and made another small cut right next to the first. Again and again he wielded the blade, making cut after small cut. The blood began to flow rapidly; he almost could not see well enough to cut himself again. For a moment he paused, staring at his bleeding arm. Tendrils of blood seeped downward; he could feel them every inch of the way. His skin, hyper sensitive under the self-torture he was committing picked up on the tiniest touch. His nerves sent signals to his brain in rapid succession; First the sharp sting of the blade, and then the dull burn as the cuts wept. L licked his lips, and slowly drew his tongue up his arm, tasting the salty flavor of his own life-blood. A shudder worked its way down his spine, and he clenched his eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream.

He couldn t even remember now what had started this new.. habit. All he could remember was the way it felt whenever he traced the tip of the knife across his skin; the way the scars felt as they formed. Unconsciously, he dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor, into the puddle of blood that had begun to collect beneath him. Shaking uncontrollably, he ran his fingers over his arms, tracing the scars that he had given himself in recent months.

There was the one on his left shoulder; his fingers curled over the join as he dreamily ran them over the scar._ Faith..._ The scar read, though you could only tell if you looked closely, and no one had bothered to look closely. No one saw that scar; they never saw any of his scars. He kept them hidden under the long sleeves he wore.

Sometimes, he could see that people wondered why he wore long sleeves at all times. None of them would ever find out, though. He wasn't cutting himself so that he could gain sympathy. He was doing it because it _hurt_. And because that pain was the only way he felt that he could distinguish reality from fantasy. His life had ceased to look any different from the nightmares he suffered; he could only tell the difference when he took the knife and sliced his skin; when he felt the pain slash through him like fire.

His fingers traveled down his arm, to the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow. That one had been particularly painful. _Pain..._ The word marred the pale flesh beneath his fingers in a slash of bright red; the scar had not healed fully yet. It wasn t pale and hard like the others were.

L suddenly opened his eyes; his midnight gaze was no longer swimming in tears. His arm was beginning to burn unbearably now. With the knife lying unwanted where he had dropped it, he unfolded from his usual position and stood. His feet barely left the carpet as he shuffled across his bedroom and into the bathroom. Rather than blind himself with the light, he merely felt his way to the sink, and switched the water on. The sound was deafening in the stillness; He winced, but dutifully held his arm beneath the flow.

The blood began washing away, and slowly, under the influence of the cold water, the pain began to fade. The blood washed down the drain, laying bare the cuts he had just inflicted on himself. _Fear..._ The word was vivid, a visible sign of what he experienced daily. When the pain had faded nearly all the way, he shut the water off again and stepped away from the sink. He was still bleeding; he could feel another drop working its way down his arm already.

Bandages...

That was what he needed.

When he had finished his task, and donned a new shirt, there was no way of telling that he had been cut. Only the dull throb in his arm reminded him that he was, in fact, awake. Reassured, L slipped into his bed, resting his cheek against the rough fabric of his pillow.

Some day, he would find another way to distinguish life from dream...

Some day...

But not for a long time...


End file.
